


The Case For Perpetual Motion

by rowanthestrange_yugihell



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Gen, The Wheel Of Time Turns
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-07
Updated: 2020-01-07
Packaged: 2021-02-27 09:12:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 739
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22164619
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rowanthestrange_yugihell/pseuds/rowanthestrange_yugihell
Summary: “Oh, there it is. The silly old universe. The more I save it, the more it needs saving. It's a treadmill.”It is only in the face of destruction, that we display our capacity for hope.
Comments: 11
Kudos: 83





	The Case For Perpetual Motion

* * *

  
Missy isn’t dead.

Yet.

Her remaining heart flutters in her breast. The right one is always her strongest cardiac muscle, the one with the will to live. The left, a hopeless romantic, ceased beating an hour ago.

When the Time Lords became worse than nothing. When her existence became based on a lie. When the Doctor’s clever idea of making her care about things poisoned her from the inside out.

Her lone heart counts down the beats until she can work out what she _should_ do, and what she _will_ do.

The Doctor had been convincing her that her previous philosophy of thinking about what she should do, and then doing the complete opposite of that, was probably doing her more harm than good.

It’s true. It’s always been true.

So then, it’s about following what she _should_ do.

And she should burn this place to the ground.  
  


* * *

  
There was a time when the Doctor, in the hope of changing his nature to do what must be done, went to the Sisterhood of Khan to drink a cup of the witches’ hemlock.

Missy needs no tea party.

Because she doesn’t want to be something new. She wants to be something old.

Contorting herself and forcing through the pain of internal organs welded together, she unlaces her corset because she doesn’t want to deform herself, but keeps the dress on, because it will be funny, and the next one’s going to need some sense of fun.

Between the fury. And the disgust. And the desire to kill everyone in sight.

It’s not going to be pretty. She can feel it creeping up in her already, like vomit. But it pains her in another way. She put off regenerating, she tried, she really tried. Tried to burn those lessons into her largely absent soul, and she knows herself, she knows what she’s really like, and it’s not going to stick. Regenerating is an art, and she’s always been more of a science sort of girl.

But she’s always been good at sending a message.

“You wait a moment, I’m still the Master here.” Missy slides to her knees. “Forget rules, the universe already has.” The heat of stolen regeneration energy flows into her fingers. Around the room. Seeping through every crack. “But take an order from your Mistress.” Her teeth burn in her mouth. Her skull’s too small. Her hearts vanish. “Whatever happens now, we do what we should. Remember the Doctor. We do what we’re supposed to do.” There’s no sight or smell or touch, there’s just gold. “Alright then, off you go.”

The wheel of time turns. Nothing ever changes.

Certainly not its Master.  
  


* * *

  
Gallifrey rises. There is a war. It falls. There is a universe in a bottle.

The wheel turns.

Gallifrey rises. There is a war. It falls. Thirteen miracles appear.

The wheel turns.

Gallifrey rises. There is no war, because there are no sides, there is only the Master. It falls.

The wheel turns.  


* * *

  
“The fascists, do they win?”

“Never,” The Doctor tells a frightened woman, who spent the first four years of her life in a world at war, which is now fighting it again. “Not while there’s people like you.”

There are Nazis. But they will fight them, and win.

There will be Neo Nazis. But they will fight them, and win.

There will be men kept in prisons for horrific crimes, who will escape and use time travel to ensure racial segregation three millennia before they were born. But they’ll fight them, and win.

There will be aliens who turn entire planets into ghettoes, enslave the population, and use their teeth for decoration. But they’ll fight them, and win.

There will be pepper-pot murder machines, shrieking “EXTERMINATE” and murdering everything in sight that is not like them. But they’ll fight them, and win.

“Never.” The Doctor tells Noor-un-Nissa Inayat Khan. British Muslim war hero. Who will die in Dachau. Executed in a concentration camp, by Nazis.

People will fight. That’s what hope is. Knowing that even though the night is starting to fall, one day, the sun will rise again.

The dark never lasts. It always gives way to light.

But why, oh, why does it have to be so damn dark.  
  


* * *

  
The Doctor looks out over the ruins of the Citadel. 

Smoke makes pretty shapes in the sky and burn it even darker orange.

The suns set.

The wheel of time turns.  
  



End file.
